


Cells in a Body

by intergalacticfeminist



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: Backstory, Can You Tell I Hate Paul, Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s01e11 Briar Rose, Episode: s01e12 Omega, Episode: s02e08 A Love Supreme, Episode: s02e13 Epitaph Two: Return, F/M, He sucks, Marijuana, Mental Health Issues, Rivalry, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10538439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intergalacticfeminist/pseuds/intergalacticfeminist
Summary: Alpha imprints himself with Stephen Kepler's identity after dumping the body in Tucson to finally carry out his plans of infiltrating the Dollhouse. To his dismay, Kepler gets added to the chaotic mass of people in his head, and on top of that his new companion, the FBI agent Paul Ballard, is proving disagreeable.





	1. Chapter 1

After being violently murdered, Kepler found himself back in his own apartment, holding an unfamiliar cellphone to his ear.

Wait.

That was impossible.

Kepler was a man of science, and he knew that you couldn’t teleport back up a five story building after being attacked in an alleyway by a rather attractive blonde man (redheaded? It was hard to tell in the dark) wielding a knife and possessing an unnerving glimmer in his eye that really could be a sign of any emotion. He set the cellphone down on the counter, shaken, processing what had gone down. He had, on a rare occasion, left his apartment to dispose of some garbage when the strange man, who had been muttering to himself when Kepler arrived in the alley, had cornered him. The man had pinned him against the dumpster, staring him directly in the eye. His arms were like steel bands, and Kepler found himself trapped. He screamed as he felt a white-hot dagger of pain streak down his chest. Through his eyes, which were swimming with tears, he could see a knife blade flashing in the dim light provided. The pain grew worse with each new incision, and Kepler could feel himself floating away. The man said something in an audible tone, but Kepler never caught it as he felt himself pass out. He hadn’t died by that point. He was at least in a coma.

It didn’t quite add up.

There was a new memory there, something there was no way he could remember. It was as if he was looking down at himself. He was in a dark room, in a dentist chair, wires attached to his head. He was in a coma clearly. There was no mistaking Kepler’s own face, though.

Kepler rubbed his eyes. Clearly he was sitting in his apartment. Everything was as it had been left, from the grow lights, to the locks being in place on the door, even the magazine was facedown on the couch like it had been before. His hoodie was still on the arm of the couch, too. “Did I fall asleep?” He mused to himself.

Kepler clapped a hand to his forehead as a sudden pain bolted through his skull. He felt like he was remembering something again. No… He wasn’t remembering something. There was definitely something off. He glanced at the calendar and nearly fell off his stool. Two days had passed, and the days that had passed were checked off on the calendar with slanted X’s that most certainly were not in Kepler’s scrawl. Kepler could feel confusion mingling with his fear. He was the only one in his apartment, like it was meant to be, but it was as if somebody else was there still. Kepler swallowed hard. He was sweating, and his mouth was dry. He needed water. He took a few deep breaths before sliding off the stool. His feet hit the ground a little sooner than he had anticipated and he let out a strangled yelp.

Kepler froze.

That wasn’t his voice. Though he lived in isolation, Kepler talked to himself often, and he knew how his voice sounded like in his head. “I need to sit down.” He said.

Unfortunately, he found he had wobbled several steps away from the stool in his shock, and was now stranded halfway across the apartment where there weren’t any chairs. Kepler lowered himself onto the ground where he was, expecting his back to creak. It didn’t. His body was definitely more pliant than he remembered since he’d been murdered in a dark alleyway. He took more deep breaths, realizing he still had a dull headache. After a few seconds, Kepler stood back up, dusting himself off. He looked down and had another heart attack. These definitely weren’t his clothes. And this _definitely_ wasn’t his body. He was dressed in a simple black long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black shoes, none of which were part of his wardrobe. _This is somebody else’s body…_ Kepler thought, panicked.

“Ohh, God, I know who’s doing this…” He said out loud to himself, heart sinking, “I knew that working with the Dollhouse was gonna come back and bite me in the ass some day.”

“Surprise, surprise. Can’t trust anybody.” Kepler found himself responding.

He was facing the opposite way of the direction he had been standing before, as if he was holding a conversation with himself. Still at that angle, he heard himself say in the unfamiliar voice, “I shouldn’t have let you drive. I did what I had to do, though.”

“Let me – what?” Kepler squeaked, facing in his original direction.

A curious sensation was beginning to overtake his brain. It wasn’t a headache.

Alpha stretched and glowered at some spot beyond the kitchen countertop. “You can shut up for a second, Kepler.” He muttered, climbing over the countertop and sitting on the other side instead of walking around.

His head felt strange from letting an unfamiliar imprint control. He was only getting worse with all these personalities, but he was making due. Alpha could feel Kepler trying to take control again as he leaned over and opened the fridge, assessing its contents. He hadn’t eaten in a few days. His lip curled in disgust as his eyes fell upon the spoiled banana squished into one corner of the refrigerator. It was completely black, and its form was mushed and molded to fit the corner. There was greenish liquid visible from under it. “That’s disgusting, Kepler. I’m only hear to eat, otherwise we might just have a cleaning party here.” Alpha said, searching for something that wasn’t spoiled or clearly some bizarre health food thing involving almonds, tofu, and/or kale.

“That’s fair.” Kepler managed to get some words out of Alpha’s mouth.

Alpha shook his head, trying to get Kepler to shut up as he looked through the fridge. Nearly half the contents had been dumped on the floor before Alpha actually managed to find half a cold pizza. He hadn’t truly realized how hungry he was until he bit into the first slice. It didn’t take five minutes before he finished the entire thing. “Slow down, man.” Kepler said.

“Too late,” Alpha said. “Pizza’s gone. You can control now. I just needed food.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Kepler said, realizing that he had been hungry too. “Wait, we’re the same person, aren’t we? I mean, I’m in your body. Who even are you? Does this have anything to do with my murder?”

Alpha clicked his tongue. But it was Kepler’s tongue. Man, this was weird. “I’ve got some bad news for you.” Alpha said, but he wore a strange smile that told Kepler he was really having no trouble delivering the news. Whatever it was.

He slid off the countertop and suddenly Kepler was in control of his body again. _All you gotta do is find a mirror for me,_ Alpha was saying.

But internally. This was really weird. Really, really weird. “Some fucked-up shit, man.” Kepler said to himself as he opened the bathroom door.

He nearly gave a high-pitched first-grade-girl-style scream when he saw his face in the mirror. Not _his_ face. His killer’s face. There was no mistaking those eyes. “What the hell, man?” Kepler asked, hoping Alpha would respond.

He was horrified to see himself say in the mirror, “Had to imprint you in me. You happen to possess all the information I need to get back into the Dollhouse.”

But it was Alpha saying it… Kepler could see his pale, visibly distressed face in the mirror, the same face as the man who had presumably killed him with a knife. “Oh, that’s just great.” Kepler choked out, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror.

He about screamed upon seeing the nonchalant shrug from Alpha that followed. “This is gonna be interesting.” Alpha said, shaking his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in advance, most of this chapter is just the whole Kepler intro scene from Briar Rose. The fun stuff starts next chapter. As well as a lot of speaking ill of Paul, because of course.

Kepler had a rough night of sleep. He was having trouble processing what was happening, and it really didn’t help that he was in a completely different body. Finally he gave up on trying to go to bed, and ended up staring at the opposite wall. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” He whispered into the darkness.

“Yep.” Alpha replied, sitting up.

He seemed very neutral about the whole affair. Kepler, despite his affiliations with morally gray people, knew that murder was wrong and now as far as he knew he was in the body of a wanted man. At least now he had a legitimate excuse not to go outside. He collapsed against the back of the couch. He was _dead._ “How’s this even possible, man?” Kepler asked Alpha, hoping for a non-cryptic response.

“Knocked you unconscious from blood loss, took your brain scans and turned them into a tone, dumped your body, then remote-wiped myself to imprint your personality into my brain by calling myself on your landline.” Alpha said in a rather bored tone.

“That’s… not right.” Kepler said, trying to sound defiant.

He just sounded scared. He knew that he was dead, dumped somewhere unceremoniously. None of this counted for anything. Okay, he that was philosophy before he died, but now he felt negatively. “This is really bad,” Kepler continued, voice cracking, “I want to be in control of an actual body. Or dead in my own body.”

“Side-effect of the composite event. I can’t un-install you from my brain.” Alpha said, somewhat bitterly.

Kepler didn’t know what a composite event was but it didn’t sound good. _Oh, trust me, it’s not._

-

A week and a half later, Kepler had given up. He wasn’t going to win against Alpha, and he was helpless inside the Doll’s brain. The week and a half felt more like months. He could hear Alpha constantly planning for something. In fact, he could always hear Alpha doing everything. He was a chaotic thinker, and as it turned out Kepler was just one of 48 other people trapped inside Alpha’s brain, except that all the others had been dumped in there on accident. It was an interesting mess of people in there. There were definitely a couple criminals in there, along with a food critic, a pilot, a window washer, and a paleontologist among other people. “So… who’s Echo?” Kepler ventured one day.

His voice sounded empty, and muffled by the blasting music. Echo was a name he heard often when Alpha was thinking. Or talking. Or doing anything, really. Kepler at least knew that it wasn’t one of the people inside his brain. He’d never heard an Echo in there before. Yet it seemed it was what Alpha ate, slept, and breathed. Not literally, he hoped. That would be… wrong. Alpha laughed breathily in response to the question. “You could say we’re an old flame.” He said, his voice taking on a strange Southern accent.

This was Bobby talking; Kepler knew the telltale accent. “Oh.” He said.

He didn’t really want to go into that any further. He knew what Bobby was like. Bobby chuckled, causing Kepler to wince. “I’ll spare you from all the gory details.” Bobby said.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re gory.” Kepler replied, voice wavering.

“Hella.” Bobby said, somehow maintaining a straight face.

Kepler could feel the barely repressed smirk. “Was she hot?” Kepler asked, trying to find common ground, although he was semi-curious.

“Duh.”

Kepler was trying to think of what to say when Bobby was cut off. “So, now you’ve noticed Echo?” Alpha asked.

“I’ve been noticing her for a while. I think I heard enough from Bobby.” Kepler said, swallowing hard.

He knew that Alpha couldn’t hurt him anymore, but there was always a lingering fear. “Ah.” Alpha replied unexpectedly.

Kepler nearly had a heart attack. Somebody was knocking on the door. “Kepler, big news, you’re driving.” Alpha said.

Kepler had no time to turn off the music as he opened the door, heart pounding. The door scraped open a few centimeters. The lock prevented it from going any further. Standing in the hall was an unfamiliar man flashing an FBI badge. Kepler felt like he was about to faint. Despite this, he opened the door all the way, leaning heavily against the frame. “Are you Stephen Kepler?” The man asked.

Kepler had forgotten completely how to act around other human beings. “Okay. What was that name again?”

“Stephen Kepler,” the man enunciated. “Is that you?”

“You’re not from the Thai place, are you? Yeah, I wanted tofu satay.” Kepler said.

That was a lie. That had happened not long before Kepler’s murder. Panic was rising inside him. There was an FBI agent outside his door, he was in the body of a serial killer, and to make matters entirely worse there was a large marijuana plantation between Kepler and the door. “Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble, but you _are_ an expert in a field I’m interested in. Can I come in and talk for a minute?” The man explained.

His badge said his name was Paul. Paul Ballard. The name rung a bell. _Oh my God,_ Kepler heard Alpha think. _He’s going to get me to Echo. This is it._

“Let’s talk out here, it’s nice,” Kepler said, the door closing behind him. That wasn’t true. He could barely breath he was so stressed. “The hallway goes down there all the way, and there’s lots of spacious… air –“ he was suffocating, “Am I still breathing?”

He pushed the door open and collapsed into the frame, breathing in the slightly moldy but comfortingly familiar scent of his apartment. He was awkward in this body despite the week and a half that he had been in it, and was constantly falling into things and misjudging. He really hadn’t done much. Suddenly a hand was pressing into his shoulder and he tripped through the doorframe and back inside. _Shit, shit, there’s a stranger in my apartment._ Kepler threw his body in front of the marijuana plantation as soon as Ballard’s eyes fell upon it. “Carrots!” He blurted. “Medicinal carrots. Personal use medicinal carrots that were here when I moved in, and I’m holding it for a friend.”

That was a lame excuse if he’d ever heard one. Thankfully, Ballard seemed to ignore this. He looked a little perplexed, though. What a terrible FBI agent. “You design environmental systems.” He said.

Not for a long time. But yes. “Yeah, th-that’s my thing. Self-contained. Renewable everything. I mean, the ultimate goal is complete self-sufficiency, but without a lot of money, you know, the best you can hope to do is offset your carbon footprint. You know, I care about my carbon footprint, but most people out there are making _carbon snow angels!”_ Word vomit. So much word vomit. Kepler hadn’t talked about his passion to anybody in years. “You know Earth Day was last week?”

Boy, was he rambling. “I haven’t been.” Paul responded.

That wasn’t even an answer that made sense. This was some strange FBI guy. “Hilarious!” Kepler continued. He was relieved to be talking about his interests. “Earth only gets _one day._ All right, the other 364, we’re – we’re cranking the AC in our Hummer,” his brain was going 90 miles per minute, he was starting to stumble over his words, “And then, one day a year, ooh, we’ll separate the plastic. You know what I think? I think that once we die out, in a couple hundred years, Earth is gonna have a People Day. You know, to remember us. One day a year, she is gonna laugh and laugh and shake our bones.”

Before he knew what he was fully doing he was standing next to the fridge, opening the door, and taking out a jar of his own piss. “Recycled urine?” He asked, offering the jar to Ballard, who gave him a disgusted look.

“I’m kidding,” Kepler said, laughing slightly. “It’s not fully recycled. I’m tinkering with that. I also have pom.”

Kepler, however terrified he was of this FBI guy, felt somewhat at ease. For the time being the 48 others seemed to be pretty quiet.

“Let’s say I do have a lot of money.” Ballard said.

“You can design a truly self-contained system? Air, water, heat. You wouldn’t even have to use the greed, maybe a little, depending on how big it is.” Kepler said.

“So, you can make a building disappear?” Ballard asked.

Kepler truly almost passed out right then and there. Ballard wasn’t on the hunt for Alpha, he wanted to get into the Dollhouse. He knew what Kepler had done. Sure, Alpha was a mass murderer, but if Kepler hadn’t constructed key parts of the Dollhouse, Alpha wouldn’t have been there to murder him in the first place as far as he knew. Time to resort to joking.

“Only if you paint it exactly like what’s behind it, and then you stand, but you couldn’t bury it underground. Underground, it’s best; you know, insulation, structural integrity. You don’t have a lot of money.” Kepler pointed out.

“I’m looking for something.” Ballard said.

“Yeah, no, you need to make an appointment with Stacy. You could email me – don’t email me. You know, I’m not comfortable having people in my home that aren’t delivering my Thai food, and I’m not talking about past clients.” Kepler said, trying to find a good cover-up.

“Tell me about the Dollhouse.” Ballard said seriously.

 _Finally, he stopped being cryptic. Hurry it up, Ballard, we’ve got a girl to find._ And there was Alpha, right as things were going downhill again.

“Ah, man.” Kepler said, unable to improvise any further.

“I told you, you’re not in any trouble.” Ballard insisted.

“You are naïve. They will kill me, and you, and me again.” Kepler said.

It was true, and for more than one reason. Not only was he revealing classified information, he also happened to be in the body of an escapee. “Please,” he continued, noticing Ballard – Paul? – removing his gun from its holster. “I shouldn’t have said anything. And now there’s a gun.”

“You built the Dollhouse.” Paul said.

He was stating everything so tersely. If Kepler had been terse he could have avoided this entire situation, sort of. “I built the shell.” Kepler clapped a hand to his mouth.

“Can you open the shell?” Paul pressed.

“What if I don’t tell you?” Kepler asked in a futile attempt to be cryptic. He then conflicted himself. “Probably. But I don’t know where it is. That was years ago. You know, I-I-I designed it from here. I never _leave here,_ man!”

“Then this’ll be real adventure for you. You’re coming with me.” Paul said blankly.

This guy had, like, no sense of humor. Everything he said was so serious. “Why would I choose to do that?”

“There is a girl named Caroline–“ Kepler sensed excitement from Alpha, “–being held there against her will. Now, I’m the only person who knows how to find the Dollhouse, and you’re the only person who knows how to get in. And as much as it pains me to say it, that makes you my new partner.”

“Then, can I hold the gun?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Echo escapes the abandoned power plant, Alpha reminisces on his days as Karl William Kraft

Alpha had never forgotten the passionate kiss he had shared with Echo after he had used Paul to get into the Dollhouse. It was a perfect fairy tale ending, except that it was really a beginning. Things were moving according to plan. Echo was Number One, and he had finally found her.

“I remember you,” She had said, voice rasping.

He wasn’t sure what emotion her voice was conveying, but he was excited to see her.

Now he was bleeding profusely and Echo was gone. His head felt like it was splitting open, and for once it wasn’t because his personalities were battling for dominance. Actually, Echo had hit him in the head with a stray pipe lying about. Romantic. Alpha groaned, holding the heel of his head to his soaked forehead. _Your state of living, if you can call it that, is possibly worse than mine, man,_ Kepler pointed out.

Alpha looked around the room. He was sitting in a dentist chair, while a dead blonde woman with a hole in her neck stared emptily at him. She was tied to the seat. “I can’t disagree.” Alpha said begrudgingly.

Sometimes Kepler was wiser than he thought. He was in part responsible for nearly giving his identity away to Paul in the Dollhouse with some wise words. They were all just cells in a body. Interchangeable. But Alpha and Echo, they were different. Above it. _You’re supremely messed-up,_ Kepler said, ruining the moment.

“You hadn’t guessed?” Alpha sighed, massaging his temples.

Kepler didn’t respond. Alpha slowly pushed himself to his feet. He had to get rid of the body. He’d been here before, with Anita Walsh, but she had escaped and he’d been put in jail. The memories were starting to come back to him.

**1.5 YEARS AGO**

He was sitting on a small plastic stool, on the phone with a British woman. She held herself with authority and had a cool, penetrating gaze. “Karl William Kraft,” said the woman, “I’m Adelle DeWitt.”

Karl stared at her. “Do I know you?” He asked quietly.

“I’m afraid not. But my staff and I know you, and what you’ve done.” DeWitt said.

“Lots of people know what I did, it was all over the news.” Karl said, trying not to give away his suspicion towards the woman.

“Are you guilty about it?” DeWitt asked.

Karl knew the voice that she was using well; the neutral, calm cadence of a therapist. “Not really.” Karl said.

It was mostly truthful. Dewitt paused. “You have a life sentence.” She said.

“They’re debating about whether or not they want to put me on death row.” Karl said.

He was wary of DeWitt, and he could feel himself falling back on old intimidation tactics. He gave the woman a death glare through the glass. She gave no sign of backing down. Karl’s jaw clenched. He had no idea where DeWitt was going with this conversation. They didn’t even know each other. “Mr. Kraft, I run a business that, if you worked at it, you could trade your sentence for 10 years there.” She said, looking him steadily in the eye.

Karl almost laughed. “How does that work?” He asked.

“We can erase everything you’ve done and make you disappear.” DeWitt said.

“You’re crazy. That’s not even a job.” Karl said.

“Oh, it is.” DeWitt replied with an enigmatic smile.

Karl cocked his head slightly. “How?”

Karl was curious, but death row kept coming back to him. Did he want to die? That was a complicated question. Adelle DeWitt’s offer was tempting. It was close to death. Essentially he was being temporarily killed.

“I’ll explain it to you if you agree to the offer to take this job.” DeWitt replied.

Karl glanced around. “I’ll take it.”

“Excellent.” Again with the mysterious smile.

“One question before I hang up. How exactly do you plan to get me out of a top-security prison?” Karl asked.

“I have my means.”

He stared as the woman hung up the phone and left. He was beginning to wonder if he was dreaming. He threw a glance over his shoulder as he was escorted back to his cell. Adelle DeWitt was gone.

-

Merely three days after the phone conversation, Karl got some rather unexpected news. “Mr. Kraft, your sentence is over.” A man’s voice said through the small slat in the door.

Karl stood up so fast he knocked his seat over. “What?”

“You heard me.” The man said.

“Of course I did. I think you’d expect it to be a little shocking that a life sentence would end in almost a month.” Karl said in a rather harsh tone.

“There are guards coming in to escort you to your ride.” The man warned.

The slat closed. There was a pause before the door opened and two burly men appeared, one of which was carrying a bundle of clothing and a ring of keys. Karl could scarcely breathe as one guard unshackled him and handed him the clothes. “Get dressed. We’ll be waiting outside the door.” One guard said.

“Don’t try anything.” The other told him sternly.

Karl smirked at both guards. “I won’t.”

The two other men left. The door slammed behind them. Karl took a deep breath and stripped down. They hadn’t bothered to wash his clothes before giving them back. His black t-shirt was still stiff and in some places where blood had spattered on it. He pulled on his clothes quickly. “I’m ready.” He said through the door.

It swung open. He’d never stepped out without handcuffs. He flexed his hands. There were dark bruises around his wrists where the cuffs had been. The guards stayed in close proximity to him, keeping him in check. Karl wasn’t going anywhere except with Adelle DeWitt. Outside, there was a black van waiting for him. The back door swung open, and there the mystery woman herself was, beckoning for him to join her. Karl threw one last glance at the prison he had been in before stepping into the back of the van. The door slammed behind him, momentarily throwing the duo into darkness. A small light on the ceiling clicked on, and there DeWitt was. The van was comfortable and roomy. Karl sat across from DeWitt. A table separated them. “Champagne?” The woman offered, gesturing to a large bottle and a glass.

Karl nodded. If there was anything he needed, it was a drink. He accepted the glass without thanking DeWitt. “So, what exactly am I getting myself into?” He asked.

“I run a place hidden in LA called the Dollhouse. You’re exchanging a life sentence in prison for 10 years you won’t remember. We erase your personality temporarily, and we put new ones in you at the request of a client.” DeWitt explained.

This was all sounding very sci-fi. “At the request of a client?” Karl asked.

“Yes. You have engagements with people. It could be romantic, it could be for very, very illegal purposes, anything at all.” DeWitt said.

“I’m taking it you’re not government.” Karl responded slowly

“We aren’t.”

-

The second person Karl met after Adelle DeWitt was not at all what he had expected of the Dollhouse staff. The second staff member came in the form of a dorky younger guy called Topher Brink. He was sporting an argyle sweater vest and a shaggy hairstyle that was probably more popular in middle school than it was with 20-something-year-olds. Topher shot finger guns immediately as they arrived. “Ohh, is this one of the new Actives?” He asked.

He had a nervous but excitable energy about him. “Yes. Topher, this is Karl William Kraft. He’s exchanged his life sentence to work with us.” Adelle said, gesturing towards Karl.

Topher’s grin turned into a look of horror. “This is the guy from the news! I thought you weren’t serious.”

“Have I ever not been serious?” Adelle raised her eyebrows.

“You got me there.” Topher said, looking nervously at Karl.

Karl stared right back at him, unsure of what to say. “So what happens now? You erase my personality?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Topher said, wringing his hands together.

-

It was a blur to Alpha after that, except for momentarily catching a glimpse of the familiar brown-haired woman. He would get back to Echo soon. He was willing to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before and after A Love Supreme, Alpha begins to murder Echo's lovers, and comes to terms with what he has done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo this chapter took forever... And then three left! The fic will wrap up in October most likely, since I've been writing one chapter per month and I have three left. Also, sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger.

Alpha stopped himself from looking at the photographs by sealing them in a manila envelope. He was staying in the hotel about ten minutes from the one that Paul and Echo were staying in. His investigations were complete, but he wanted to dwell a while longer. Fast forward to his last day there, and he was sitting at the pool on the roof. It was a hot August morning, and the pool was nearly the same color of the sky. Alpha was completely alone on the rooftop. Swimming was definitely an option, but it was a challenge. He had so many people agreeing and disagreeing about whether they liked water or not. He compromised by wading knee-deep, and stood there, soaking in the sun. Alpha was pale enough that he burnt easily, and he had freckles up and down his arms and back.

He had waited months to see Echo, and there she was. Alpha thought about bursting into their apartment with a knife at the ready, to slice up Ballard’s face and take Echo away, but no, she wasn’t ready to see him yet.

Alpha knew that he should try to relax while he could, but the debate was ongoing about whether or not he should actually get in the water. He threw a glance over his shoulder in the direction of Echo’s hotel before wading further and submerging himself. The water was refreshingly cool against his skin, and the sound of being underwater was enough to at least temporarily quiet the voices in his head. Alpha opened his eyes. Blue was a nice color, and he was surrounded by it. Eventually he came back up for air and returned to where he had been sitting before.

“You know what I’m gonna do?” He asked himself. “I’m gonna buy a suit.”

He smirked in satisfaction at the idea. Alpha felt better than he had in a while. He’d retreated since Echo’s composite event, but he was coming back. And he would be better than ever.

Alpha briefly returned to his hotel room to get dressed and pack before checking out at the front desk, rucksack in hand.

He paid with the credit card previously owned by Wendy, the cashier he had kidnapped months prior.

Alpha flashed the receptionist a bright smile before leaving. The receptionist turned magenta. _Now onto buying a suit,_ He thought.

There was a store a few blocks away from Echo’s hotel that sold formalwear. Hopefully he could walk out of there with his suit instead of having to wait. He could make that happen. Thankfully, when he arrived at the store, it wasn’t very crowded, considering it was a weekday morning. There was only one person working at the moment, a young woman with long light brown hair and round purple glasses. “Hi, may I help you?” She asked in the classic retail voice.

Alpha found himself slipping into Bobby’s characteristic drawl, but more sophisticated. “Yeah, I’d like to purchase a suit.”

“Ooh. Any specific type you’re looking for? For a wedding? A meeting?” The woman asked.

“It’s for a date of sorts, actually. I’m lookin’ to be a Southern dandy.” Alpha said.

That was cheesy. But it was what he was looking for. The woman nodded. “I’m sure we can find you something like that.” She said.

Alpha watched as the woman took a few suits out from the back room and laid them out on the counter. One immediately caught his eye. Towards the end was a gray pinstriped suit, complete with a floral shirt underneath and a matching tie. Alpha pointed at it. “That one’s a beauty.” He said.

“Is that your choice?” The woman asked.

Alpha nodded. “Can’t see myself with any suit but that.”

“Okay,” The woman replied. “I’ll get your measurements so we can tailor it to fit you. We should have it ready in about a week. Usually it would take three days but we’ve been really busy recently.”

“Do you know how to tailor things yourself?” Alpha asked.

“Yes, why?” The woman asked curiously.

Alpha reached a hand to pull a knife out of an inside pocket in his hoodie. The woman’s eyes widened. “How about we turn that week into an hour?” He asked, smirking.

The woman unconsciously took a few steps backwards, bumping into the edge of the counter. Her eyes followed the knife as Alpha began to speak again, switching from the Southern accent to his usual sinister cadence. “You should really get a head-start. I have important things to attend to.” He said.

“R-right away.” The woman said, gathering the suit up in her arms.

She led Alpha to the back room and laid the suit out on a table, continuously looking up at him with a knit brow and round eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.

-

The suit took almost shorter than expected to be tailored. The woman handed Alpha the suit in a sealed bag, trying not to make eye contact. Alpha studied his blade, wondering what to do with her. There was a long silence, before he slowly returned his knife to his pocket. The woman’s tensed shoulders dropped, and she whispered, “Have a good day, sir.”

Alpha turned on his heel and walked out. As he left, he heard the woman laugh nervously and ask no one in particular, “Who puts a knife in their sweater pocket?”

As soon as he was out of the shop, Alpha began to make his way towards the Metrolink station. He shoved his suit into the rucksack he had with him and pulled out a file folder. He opened it to the first paper and pulled it out. There was a picture of a younger, good-looking man called Nate Jordan clipped to it, and beneath the photo, all of his information was written in Alpha’s slanted scrawl. His address, his phone number, everything. He lived on the very edge of LA, in an incredibly secure neighborhood. It wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. It took about ten or so minutes to get to the station. Alpha sped up his pace, and immediately almost skidded to a halt so fast he nearly fell forward. Only five people separated him from Paul Ballard. The former FBI agent’s arms were full of groceries, and he wore his usual annoying look of stoic determination. Alpha pulled his hood up despite it being nearly 85 degrees, facing the ground. He snuck another glance at Paul, simmering with quiet anger, but kept moving.

-

He was covered in blood – Nate Jordan’s blood to be exact. It was striped across his face and had stained his hands orange and red. The knife worked its way underneath Nate’s skin and came back up, shining silver and crimson. It didn’t take Alpha long to sever each important artery, holding him up by the front of his shirt. When he was done, he let the man crash to the ground. Nate was already dead. Alpha laughed quietly, satisfied with his work, and sought out the bathroom. He needed to wash his face. He figured he would crash at this home for the night, and continue on his spree the next morning.

The bathroom was luxurious, and had a large mirror. Alpha averted his gaze from the mirror. He had never liked mirrors. They always threw him off because in them he never looked like anybody except one of his personalities. Alpha watched the water as it poured from the faucet, the sound echoing eerily off the walls and high ceiling. “Speaking of Echo,” chimed in Logan, a sailor, “Do you think those groceries were for her?”  
“No duh. Her and Paul have to eat, don’t they?” somebody else piped up, though Alpha couldn’t tell whom the voice belonged to.

Alpha ignored Logan and the other, scrubbing his face vigorously with a washcloth until it was raw and red. It took a while to completely wash the blood from his hands, and he knew he had completely ruined his clothes.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

All of Echo’s lovers were dead but two – Alpha and Whiskey. The real Paul Ballard he knew had to have been dead. He’d given him extensive brain damage. It was what Kepler died of in the end, although his stab wounds would have killed him anyway. Was Alpha really even one of Echo’s lovers? Thanks to Paul, he was now fully aware that she hated him, and he was ready to accept it. He surely wasn’t going to win her affection by killing the man dearest to her. Alpha didn’t want to face Echo anymore; he was done, and the old obsession wasn’t burning as bright as it once had. There was a different kind of love in its place. He wasn’t going anywhere near Whiskey. He’d caused her enough damage as it was. “So,” said the Paul Ballard residing within Alpha, “You really think I’m dead?”

“I’m… sorry, Paul.” Alpha said, struggling to get the words out.

Paul laughed bitterly. “I think your apology to Echo is more important.”

Alpha heaved a sigh. “I don’t think I want to see her for a while. But you’re right.”

“You have to face this at some point.” Paul pointed out.

“Like I don’t know that!” Alpha snapped.

“Could you calm down for one second? Please?” Paul asked.

Alpha was about to scream _no_ , but he was out of energy. He was lucky he had kept the keys to Kepler’s apartment, because otherwise he wouldn’t have a place to sleep. He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the wall. He took a deep breath, slowly calming himself. It was short-lived though, as there was suddenly a knock at the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years later, in the midst of the Thoughtpocalypse, Alpha finds himself reunited with Echo, and the two have their first normal conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, shorter chapter than normal since I missed a full weekend of work due to not having access to my computer. Also, quick disclaimer, I have literally never written romance in my life so don't be surprised if the intimate stuff sounds a little amateur. Enjoy!

_10 years later_

Alpha bent down on one knee to put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder, assuring him that he would be fine talking to Echo in the other room alone. Ten years ago he had been sitting in Kepler’s apartment when Whiskey had arrived at the door, holding a pair of scissors and looking terrified. Alpha could still feel the scar where the scissors had been lodged in his shoulder. He’d deserved it. And if anything went wrong between him and Echo in the back room, he would deserve getting every personality inside his head erased as well. They were in an abandoned shop in Reno – Alpha, Trevor, Paul, and Echo. The rest of Alpha’s crew was presumably in another part of the city in their truck.

Alpha stood, noting the concern on the child’s face. He reached into his pocket, dropping his blade on the ground, and turned to meet Echo in the other room.

The back room was dark, save for a lantern that was sitting on a rotting wood table. Echo was waiting there for him, the flickering light casting shadows across her face. “Nice to see you’ve been doing some good in light of the apocalypse.” She said.

“Not recently.” Alpha replied.

“I heard about that. How are you right now?” Echo asked.

Alpha began to wonder if she was genuinely concerned. _I suppose everybody likes to stick together when the world ends._ “Better now, I guess.”

“Who’s the kid?” Echo asked.

“Oh. That’s Trevor. He’s…” Alpha wasn’t sure how to refer to Trevor.

He was like a son, but not exactly. Sometimes Trevor took care of Alpha more than Alpha took care of Trevor.

Echo gave a soft smile. “So you’re a post-apocalyptic dad now?”

“Not in that way. I mean, we’re not related.” Alpha began to stumble over his words, returning the smile nervously.

“I get it.” Echo said.

“Rossum got his uncle killed. He needed somebody.” Alpha replied.

“And you’re a brilliant influence now?” Echo asked, her smile turning into a smirk.

“Better than I was years ago. Trevor’s helped me a lot.” Alpha said, remaining serious.

Echo paused. “How are you feeling right now? Right now in this exact moment that we’re talking.” She asked.

“I’m,” Alpha searched for the right word, “Unsure. I’m glad that we’re having a normal conversation despite all this, and I’m still a little unsteady after, you know… that.”

Echo nodded slowly. Both of them jumped as something that sounded like speakers crackled to life. Alpha heard Trevor apologize, and suddenly music was playing. He almost laughed. “How’d you get that to work, Trev?” He called to the other room.

“Technology.” Trevor answered vaguely.

Alpha looked at Echo, watching her face relax. “I don’t remember the last time I heard music.” She said.

“I can’t recall either.” Alpha shook his head.

Echo’s face was hard to read in the flickering light, but she was holding out a hand to Alpha. He stared, trying to comprehend her outstretched arm. It took him a few seconds to realize what she wanted. Alpha took her hand, resting his other on her waist. “Should we be doing this? I mean… Paul?” Alpha whispered.

“We’re not actually _together_ together, you know. We’re just _working_ together.” Echo said, swaying to the music.

“Oh.” Alpha said, voice catching in his throat.

This was the closest they had ever been without there having been a fight before, after, or somewhere in the middle, since he’d kissed her in the hallway. But Blevins had thwarted them.

The music playing was old-timey, probably from the 40s, and vaguely familiar. It was perfectly anachronistic. Echo wrapped her arms behind Alpha’s head, bringing him in closer. “I never imagined this happening in a million years.” She said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Alpha nearly forgot to breathe as he processed what had just happened. Without thinking, he pulled her closer, kissing her harder and more passionately. The kiss was the most genuine romantic love Alpha had ever shared with anybody in his life, even next to his countless romantic engagements at the Dollhouse. After what felt like a pleasant eternity, Echo pulled away, still looking up at Alpha with shining eyes. “I’m surprised that I don’t regret this.” Echo said breathlessly.

“It’s the apocalypse, isn’t it? There’s no time for regrets.” Alpha said.

He felt a twinge in his chest as he said that, remembering the damage he’d done. The last man he’d killed, he’d probably left to the Butchers. Things like that you simply couldn’t not regret.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha knows that there's a chance he might fully revert to the original Karl William Kraft personality, but he also knows he's stubborn enough to try to prevent it on his own

The warmth of the embraces he had shared with Echo and Victor lingered on Alpha’s jacket as he set his final gift for Echo on the back of the chair. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He gave his final goodbyes, trying to remain unemotional. It would probably be the last he ever saw of Echo. Alpha pushed down the knot in his gut. He’d never experienced fear such as this before. He had always faced life with such a cocky manner that he never felt like he had time to feel true fear. He left the Dollhouse for presumably the last time with a bag full of a years’ supply of food on his back, not daring to throw a glance over his shoulder. In a way he was surprised at himself for being emotional over leaving the place that had caused him to experience his own personal hell. He was tired; tired beyond the years he’d lived. Echo told him when she’d arrived that he looked that way, with his pale, emaciated face, his eyes ringed with dark circles, and his unshaven face. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to smile until he had hugged Echo and Victor.

Alpha was tired and he _ached_. He ached inside for Trevor; he ached inside for Paul, despite their years of animosity, he ached for Topher and his heroic self-sacrifice – he knew that though they had both done wrong, Topher had his shot at truly redeeming himself, and most of all he ached for every person he had killed, Butcher or not. He’d broken his Butchers-only promise so long ago it was like it didn’t exist. He remembered the look of horror on both Doctor Saunders faces as he had slashed them up, but what truly stuck with him was the look of complete incomprehension on the Dolls’ faces as he had murdered them, and the warm spray coating his face and hands as he’d escaped.

Alpha escaped the Dollhouse this time through a tunnel that had taken him several months to dig. It went several feet underneath the Dollhouse even, he had Kepler to thank for figuring out how to do this, and was really a bunker of sorts. He had at least ten minutes, counting down, to make it to the bottom of the tunnel. Alpha could at least thank the dysfunctional technology the Dollhouse had armed him with for his speed. He had been on his way to being Rossum’s deadliest super soldier, but of course the experiment was ill-fated. And now in that ten minute countdown the company that was overall responsible for him was going to be gone. Wiped out. But potentially so could everything that Alpha had worked towards becoming. He knew there was a chance that his plan could fail. That there was a chance of once again becoming Karl William Kraft and probably the one evil in the newly reformed world. He couldn’t let it happen. As he climbed his way down to the bunker, he apologized to Paul Ballard, who had been quiet ever since Victor had broken the news. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” He said. “These could be our last moments before you and Kepler and everybody else are gone for good. But I’m sorry. It sounds ridiculous now, and you don’t have to be okay with it, but I’m sorry that I used you and I’m sorry that I put you in a co–“

“Alpha.” Paul cut him off. “The only person who needs an apology is Echo. In a year, when this all blows over, you can go say what you need to her. I don’t matter now, but she does.”

“That’s the only smart thing you’ve ever said.” Alpha replied.

Paul almost laughed.

Alpha kept going down with somewhat restored strength. Maybe he would be okay. He had motivation, and it was going to keep him going for his year underground.

He reached his destination within three minutes of the bomb going off. When it did, Alpha felt it. Though the ceiling above shook slightly, Alpha felt it in his head. Everything went very, very quiet. Alpha braced himself against a wall, wondering if his short burst of optimism had been meaningless after all. He could feel his thoughts ebbing away slowly. Alpha felt a grave sadness in his chest as he grappled to remember himself. Soon that too began to fade.

A strange feeling that he was almost unable to identify overtook him. It was strong, at least compared to the almost nothing that had become of his sadness. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers. Somehow, things were coming back to him – _things were coming back to him._ Alpha’s vision clouded, and he found himself almost crying in relief as he recollected the events of the past twelve or so years. He was going to make it.

…

Alpha was startled awake by the sound of his watch beeping, a sound he hadn’t heard in 365 days. He’d been counting. He’d ran out of food prematurely – the last of it was gone the morning before, and he almost forgot to take his bag with him as he scrambled towards the exit. As he mounted the ladder, it hit him that the hatch leading to his bunker might have been built over for all he knew. He reassured himself that Echo would know to have told somebody to leave the door alone. The ladder was much longer than he remembered it, and his legs ached from lack of exercise. Despite this, he felt almost like a new man. He’d waited until the previous day to shave, and his face felt raw against the cool underground air.

Alpha nearly missed the last rung as he pushed the hatch open and emerged into the new world. It looked a lot like he remembered it. The Dollhouse was still there in all its quiet, mysterious glory. He knew as soon as he stepped off the ladder that it was in fact quiet empty. Except for one figure, standing on the balcony. A smallish woman with wavy brown hair tumbling past her shoulders, wearing a simple, somber outfit. “Echo?” Alpha called, voice rasping.

The woman turned around. It was her. Only he knew that her name was Caroline once again. “Karl?” Echo asked nervously.

She had a gun strapped to her leg. “No,” Alpha said defiantly. “There’s no need for the weapon. It’s still the same Alpha as last year.”

Unexpectedly, Caroline drew the gun from its holster, but dropped it on the ground. She rushed down the stairs and threw herself into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Alpha hugged her back tentatively. After an eternity, she let go, and Alpha held her back to examine her at an arms’ length. She looked exactly the same as he’d last seen her, but happier. Alpha looked her in the eye and said everything he’d bottled up in the past year. He talked about the way he had pulled her from the Dollhouse, how he had nearly destroyed the original her, how he had used Paul, and how Trevor had helped him while she was absent. And then they kissed. Alpha stiffened at first, but they melted into each other in a way they hadn’t for a long while. And the world was better.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did it! I completed my longest fic. It sounds like an Oscar speech but I'd like to thank some pals for helping me with this. Thank you to my friend Paige for giving me the idea to write this fic in the first place. Thank you to my aunt for listening to a chapter or two even though she has almost zero context for any of this. Thank you to my buddy Van for beta'ing maybe a chapter or two and giving me some opinions on others! Love y'all. Kepler out.


End file.
